Unwanted Memories
by Spirit of the Swan
Summary: Everyone has something they wish they could forget.


**Unwanted Memories**

**Disclaimer: HOMESTUCK belongs to the immortal Lord Hussie. I only own my OC's.**

**~1~**

I'm not exactly what you would call a "normal" child.

In some ways, I guess I could be called a genius, with a mind much more advanced than those my age usually are. Or, I could be called a freak, what with the rate which I pick up things that is beyond normal human capabilities. But it is because of this brain of mine that I know I don't want to be noticed as different, don't want to be a freak of nature.

And so, I can also consider myself to be an amazing little actress. After all, the best lies are mixed with the truth. If you asked any of the adults who know me, they would tell you that Sophia Dennis is a quiet, shy, sweet young girl.

There is a reason for my knowledge that I have never told anyone. I'm not even positive if it is true or simply a sort of mental hallucination, but I will believe it anyway. You see, I have memories that couldn't belong to me. Memories of some other life before this one. It isn't clear, but every once in a while something triggers in my head and a memory comes into strong focus.

I honestly hate it when that happens, because it causes the worst of migraines. When I was really small, the pain was nearly unbearable, but as I got older, they became slightly less painful. Probably because my growing brain is more stable and can withstand the sudden influx of knowledge that comes with these memories.

Truly, the only side effect of remembering death, no matter how fuzzy that memory may be, is I have bad anxiety, and anything relating to how I died causes me to go into a panic attack. It's not fun. Luckily, I have been told that pneumonia does not run in my family, so the chances of me getting it, especially as bad as it was before, are slim to none. And so, I have been living my new life gratefully and without incident. That is, until my mom died in a fire at her work.

I was 6 when that happened. Dad was never the same after her death. In typical grieving, he turned to alcohol. Keeping the house and the both of us clean and orderly became my job. Every day I would get up before sunrise to make breakfast and lunch, then get ready for school. We lived close enough for me to walk to school, so I never bothered to wake up dad before I left, just left a note to remind him to go to work. Then when I got home the house would be empty and I would finish my super easy homework, prepare dinner, then read whatever book I had got from the library until dad got home.

One night, he came home especially late very drunk. That was the first time he every slapped me. This became a more common things as the weeks moved on. However, I never said anything to anyone.

It's not that I was protecting him, in fact I had no love lost on him. However, I knew that if he was found out, I would end up taken away by child services. I didn't want to go through any of that legal mayhem, so I shut my mouth, acted exactly the same as always in public, and learned how to hide almost any bruise I might have had. After all, it might have been a shitty way to live, but I could still choose how to live and that is what mattered to me. I was content enough.

Once again everything change when I was 8 years old. It was the first day of my third grade year and I was pretty excited to be getting a new class. I may have the mentality of an adult, but I loved kids a lot. In the past, I have made sure to be nice to everyone, but still mess with some kids.

All in all, I became that side character that everyone knows, no one hates, but no one gives another thought either. And that is exactly where I wanted to be.

With this new class, however, came something that I was not expecting. Right as the bell rang this blond kid with awesome anime shades came in and took a seat. Something about him seemed very familiar but I just couldn't remember where I knew him from. As we gathered in a circle on a floor to introduce ourselves, I couldn't wait to know who this kid was, and why he seemed so familiar to me. Finally it was his turn, and with a cute little drawl he stated, "Yo, I'm Dave Strider."

More kids introduced themselves and soon it was my turn, but I didn't hear any of it. Suddenly it felt like I couldn't breathe, and pain shot through my head as I remembered. I saw it all, from a boy named John's 13th birthday to an alien queen terrorizing the paradox space. I vaguely noticed that I was clutching my head while voices tried to calm me down.

By now I had tears beginning to stream down my face from both the pain and the horror. If that really is Dave Strider, then that means I am going to die. The planet will be destroyed in about 5 years with me along with it. I was hyperventilating as my anxiety began to make everything worse. Suddenly there was a prick in my arm and I felt myself start to calm down and drift off to sleep.


End file.
